In the De Costa household, gardeners and maids alike stared solemnly up toward the top floor near the veranda. There a single wax candle stood on the ledge of a closed windowpane. The bright orange flame flickering ever-so-slightly.
The candle stood nine inches tall, as the body of a serpent crawled up the sides.
In Aswán, a traditional candle was placed on the window seal to beckon good spirits in the changing of the seasons.
Different hues of a candle’s flame represented different wants. A yellow flame calls upon happiness. Red asks for a fruitful marriage. Green attributes to prosperous ventures. And orange beckons good health.
The gardeners went about their daily chores but could not help but glance at the flame in the top window that overlooked the garden.
The mood was utterly stifled in the garden but it was hardly any different from inside the room.
Katarina sat quietly in front of her mother’s bed, the bitter smell of medicine stabbing at her nose.
The Marchioness’ fever picked up once more resulting in days in bed.
Rosa was about to replace the Marchioness' lukewarm towel with a fresh one but was stopped.
Elisé propped herself on her elbows, her chest heaving by the sudden exertion. The elderly maid rushed to stuff pillows under her lady’s back. The moves were frantic but it was not enough to tussle the Marchioness about.
Katarina stared at her mother whose expression remained serene as if the pain was not excruciating.
Elisé sighed a breath of relief as she leaned against the wall of pillows, her head lulled back involuntarily. Her eyes closed for but a second as if sleep beckoned for her.
“Mother.” Katarina’s soft tone caused Elisé’s eyes to widen. A warm smile riddled her lips.
“Katarina,” Marchioness De Costa’s tone was weak, as she could barely utter a word. The scratchiness in her throat was coarse on the ears but Katarina smiled in return.
“I am here,” said Katarina softly as she reached out, gripping her mother’s hand. The bone of her fingers was noticeable on contact. Blue veins protruded leaving her mother’s once pristine hand, rigid and bumpy.
Katarina could not help but notice the light dimming in her mother's eyes as the days passed.
Usually, Katarina's mornings consisted of watching her mother walk the gardens from her window, picking a few roses for the dining room table but it was nothing but a distant memory.
The days her father spent with her mother increased, evident by the stacks of blankets and pillows neatly placed on the tiny chaise in the corner of the Marchioness' room.
Time was inching by and the house of De Costa knew that it was only a matter of time.
Elisé struggled to display a smile as she observed her daughter. The thick dark maroon gown's high collar wrapped around Katarina's neck fastened by a single button. Her sleeves sheathing her wrists.
As the years went on, Elisé noticed her daughter's fashion was one of an old maid and not a young maiden. It took the maids great pains to dress this daughter of hers in bright colors let alone fit her in a design that matched her age.
"To wear such colors, it seems as if you are in mourning." Elisé's innocent joke caused the room to stiffen.
“Mother,” Katarina’s tone strained as she tightened a grip on her mother's hand.
Elisé glanced around the room to see that her joke was not taken as one. A gentle smile rose from her lips. "I jest," said Elisé as she let out a gargling cough.
The sight of blood was a common occurrence as of late as Elisé was too tired to pretend that she was alright.
“Should I call the physician?” Katarina worried.
“No.” Her mother's tone was grave but gave Katarina's hand a soft squeeze before eyeing Rosa. The quick-witted maid nodded as she glared toward the little maids who preoccupied the room.
Rosa’s dominance could be felt as the little maids ducked their heads lower and made their way out of the room. Rosa’s heavy-footed steps followed after them, closing the bedroom door for the mother and daughter pair.
“Grand Duke Devoncourt is not my first pick.” The Marchioness's labored breath did not subside but she needed to make her feelings known to her daughter.
The dark expression the Marchioness fashioned uncoiled the knot that resided in Katarina's heart.
“But, with King Richard using the debutant season to corral us into staying in Vicon, it's only a matter of time when that dullard mandates an engagement.” The cold tone would make anyone flinch.
The Marchioness of De Costa was not active in the social circles. Nor did she prop herself up by using her title. In comparison to other Madams, Marchioness De Costa was considered a wallflower.
Only attending events that needed her presence, never being exuberant in her purchases, and staying in the comfort of the De Costa Manor.
Rumors of her being uncouth due to her Aswánian roots abound. Paying no mind to those below her and kissing the feet of those above her. Nasty rumors painted the Marchioness as the eternal black sheep.
And instead of rebuking, Elisé would act as if she was deaf.
It was not until a certain rumor of her children not only inheriting the Marchioness' physical attributes but her uncultured mannerism as well. Originated from a little noblewoman whose husband had a foothold in overseeing and procuring wheat for the capital.
An extremely lucrative job, for a house of such little renown.
It was the next day when King Richard revoked the family of their rights to sell wheat and confiscated their land due to years of tax withholding. The little noblewoman went to salons to meet with friends and gather information on how such a swift decision was made. It was not until Marchioness De Costa entered that very salon did the room go silent.
Elisé's dark brown eyes peered into the little noble who dared to say a word about her children.
When the little noblewoman meet the Marchioness’ gaze she realized who the instigator was as well as all the times she spoke ill of the Marchioness’ children.
On that day, the whole of Vicon felt the gravity of Elisé’s power.
A woman who is able to withstand the onslaught of slander but would bare her teeth as the first moment her children’s names were on the tongue of ill-intent strangers.
It was known the De Costa household’s Madam was not one that could be prodded at, especially not her children.
No one was safe from her fury, not even the sovereign.
“That old Grandsire should pull his attention toward his own grandchildren,” Elisé growled, silencing a cough as she gazed into her daughter’s eyes. Her tangent was unrestrained and unforgiving. Elisé’s expression twisted into a knot, as a grudge toward the sovereign was cultivated at that moment. It was beautiful to witness for Katarina.
“The most important thing is Mother’s health,” Katarina spoke, giving her mother a tiny smile.
Elisé was not one to cuddle her children during their upbringing nor did she overly praise them. Her compliments were well measured and sporadic. Sweet words were not exchanged between the mother and daughter pair, just minuscule actions of affection. A warm smile is reserved when their eyes are locked or pushing back a stray curl.
The slow and trembling hand of Katarina’s mother pushing away a strand of hair was a task. Elisé willowy wrist swayed as if was at risk to snap at any second. The Marchioness’ deep brown eyes were the last remnant of the hardened Southern maiden all those years prior.
“I will not move a step until I see a white veil over your head.” Elisé’s Aswánian accent diminished her ‘r’s by the rolling of her tongue.
It induced a heavy cough, her chest heaving trying to catch her breath. Many questions filled the space between them, yet they could not form words to address them.
“No matter the rumors of Grand Duke Devoncourt’s fidelity, upon your wedding day, I will assure you that rake of a man will understand who is most important.” The Marchioness’ breathed.
The words offered no comfort as Katarina displayed a warm smile that did not reach her eyes. In honesty, the Grand Duke’s fidelity was not the least of Katarina’s worries.
All the young maiden wanted was a quiet life and a world where the weight of her family’s name would no longer burden her.
Alas, It was no use for Katarina to hold any sort of hope but the weight of her mother’s concern calmed the young maiden. Though the moment was short-lived as Elisé's heavy sigh indicated no other alternative solution. The silence dashed the last remnants of Katarina’s hope.
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